the venus baths

where you can hear the whispering wisdom of mother nature herself

poetry recitation

Hidden in the mountains is a place called the Venus Baths, where you can hear the whispering wisdom of Mother Nature herself.

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act i. receptivity

At the Venus baths you will find a silvery waterfall where women bathe. A woman showers under the falling luster of pearlescence. The water glides along the outline of her face, her cheek. It swims along the contours of her side body, twisting over her rib cage, diving down her waist and rolling over the flesh of her hips.

She knows that each day holds a new offering, a new current to be taken by. She allows each moment to wash over her and appreciates the beauty each river has to give.

She feels her feet grounded into the soft, wet earth below and the freshness pooling around her ankles. Flower petals float around her feet in adornment, worshipping the magnificent flow that she embodies.

With her gaze, she follows where the water goes. Allows it to trail over the pathways of least resistance along her body.

There is nowhere to be, but exactly here where she is, under this cleansing water and today’s reborn sun in the sky. She knows this is exactly where she was destined to be, in this very moment in time.

A gleaming pearl is carried by the crystal streams that cascade over her hair. The pearl sinks into the crown of her head and as the soma fills her body, she receives it with a smile.

Be receptive to all that is beautiful and soft, there is no need to rush.

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act ii. devotion

At the Venus Baths, there is a woman swimming at the base of the waterfall. She watches with delight as the bubbles from the tumbling and rippling falls, burst and dissolve back into the water

She giggles and splashes her sister who is sitting at the water’s edge, reading poetry and sipping schisandra berry tea.

Her sister picks each word up from the page and holds them delicately in her hands. Feels the angles and the curves of each spell.

She hangs metaphors from her ears like diamonds and similes around her neck like liquid gold. Each rhyme and rhythm is music to her ears, as the tea she sips dances on her tongue and sinks warmth into her center.

The woman in the pool opens her eyes as she submerges, pebbles becoming abstract artwork. The lily pads and white lotus flowers blur as she looks up at them resting on the surface, like celestial bodies in a night sky.

She sees greenery overhanging from the banks tickling the pool and remembers how her own body always longs to touch and be one with the sacred water.

The woman swims, moving her body through the silky pool. Each stroke an act of devotion, each suspended breath underwater a prayer. She rolls onto her back and floats, dissolving into the river.

Be playful with your devotion, I am always here, come home to me.

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act iii. tenderness

At the Venus baths there is a colourful garden in bloom. A woman gazes upon a hibiscus flower covered in morning dew. She watches as the sunshine illuminates the flower and dries up each drop, each tiny globe of glassy water.

She has tended to this soil for a lifetime. She has watched each flower unfurl from seed to bloom.

A honeybee is pulled into the glowing centre with an embrace of reciprocity. An unspoken agreement that you can indulge in my nectar if you help my sisters grow.

The woman watches as the graceful pollinators and tiny, dancing bees drink the honeyed sweetness that she has nurtured.

She tiptoes through the garden with care, the fertile soil between her toes feeling like an old friend. Every blossom is a child to her, a cultivation of loving kindness.

The colours of the wild love around her are mirrored in the ribbons that adorn her arms and are braided in her hair. Each ribbon of the rainbow is a wish that she dreams of, as she does her ceremonial may pole dance at sunrise each day.

This ritual she tenderly practices right before she collects water from the river, to water her children of Earth.

Take gentle care of this land and each other, it is the home I created for you.

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act iv. sensuality

At the Venus baths there is a smooth expanse of stone, perfect for bathing under the morning sun. A woman lay there, her hair wet from a sunrise dip. She’s holding a rose and tracing her skin with the soft petals, attuning her body to the frequency of the sacred flower.

She twirls the rose and swivels her hips. Silky petals traverse the curves of her lips, her collarbones and her thighs as she gazes at the perfectly imperfect clouds floating by.

While the flower glides over the landscape of her body, her fingers paint spiraling swirls over a rosebud, encouraging it to bloom. The sky watches her play with her own softness, as she becomes a waterfall herself.

She reaches her arms overhead, arches her back and stretches the muscles between each rib. She watches the sensitive mountain peaks, brush against the soft blue sky.

The tectonic collisions in her body are the same that created the curves of this mountain range.

Feel every sensation and embrace imperfection, pleasure is the point my love.

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act v. creativity

At the Venus baths, there are deep pools of water formed in the rocks. A woman’s legs dangle over the edge, submerged in the cool, refreshing water as she sews.

She is crafting a long flowing skirt out of the delicate petals of purple asters, blue hydrangeas, yellow daffodils and pink - white magnolias.

Each floral placement is like the precious stroke of a paintbrush on a canvas, the pattern only understood by the heart, not the mind.

The golden thread of magic that penetrates the petal soft fabric weaves together her desire and births her joy into art.

When she is done, she pulls on the skirt and dances, pirouetting and soaring with the dragonflies downstream.

The flowers shift and spin like a rond de jambe. Her arms graceful and feet pointed with balletic beauty. She allows her symphonious body to sing the song contained within.

I placed a special light within you, allow it to shine onto the world with grace.

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act vi. emotion

At the top of the water fall here at the Venus baths, there is a woman resting. She is crying, shedding tears of pearls into the water. She lets the morning sunshine beam against her skin, melting all the heartbreak that is frozen within.

She allows the water to pass through her and alchemizes her sadness into wisdom. She trusts that this wave shall pass like the ever-changing ocean tides or how every morning the night sky transforms into a sunrise.

Each pearly tear rolls smoothly down her cheek and dives into the water, immersing once more with the nature in which it was born.

Her arm is the smoothest pillow to cradle her sorrows, as her tears feed the river, and make her heart a little softer. She sinks her ears underwater, the fluidity a graceful balm and finds peaceful silence.

Make rest and tenderness the top of your priorities, you are my most precious creation.

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This week the magical story of once upon a fairytale begun with my piece the dance of the midnight fae ballet. An enchanting story about a troupe of fairy ballerinas who dance to lull the forest to a peaceful and protected slumber. I would love to know what you think.

nadia g

and I are so grateful to everyone who has already shown so much love and support.

the dance of the midnight fae ballet

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